


The Mirror of Erised

by shutupeccles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Crossover, Fantasy, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reason as to why Merlin may have invented the Mirror of Erised, and how Dumbledore knows it is dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror of Erised

**Author's Note:**

> Set soon after the end of 3.13 and includes a direct quote from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_  
>  Written for merlinxarthur's fanfic challenge #5 from these picture prompts
> 
> [](http://pics.livejournal.com/shutupeccles/pic/00059ef2/) [](http://pics.livejournal.com/shutupeccles/pic/0005af1p/)

Merlin cannot control his consistently increasing desire for Arthur.

He has to channel it somewhere other than his baggy trousers to prevent them becoming quite obviously less baggy whenever Arthur is naked in front of him / sleeping sprawled across his big royal bed with a big royal hard on / kicking someone’s arse in a tourney / unexpectedly compassionate / laughing with his knights / breathing. The tortuously sexy prat manages to make braying like a donkey a turn on! Merlin keeps wondering if he could make Arthur verbally ejaculate like that while ejaculating deep in his arse.

Merlin must stop thinking of Arthur naked on all fours, arse in the air and full of Merlin. Firstly because there is no way Arthur will ever consent to being naked on all fours with his arse in the air and full of Merlin, and Merlin is not using his magic against Arthur simply to stop these graphic fantasies from haunting him by living them out just once, oh please just one vigorous round of sex where Arthur completely surrenders and Merlin surrenders with him so it isn’t really a case of domination but mutual submission and they make each other come so hard Arthur brays like a donkey and promises to forgive Merlin everything from past, present and future and Merlin reveals he is the last Dragonlord, admits everything and there are no more lies between them.

Is that really too much to ask?

He hears Arthur’s voice reply with that typical Arthur lilt: ‘Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, of course it is. Think such thoughts again and I’ll have you beheaded – and I don’t mean the one with ears.’

The second reason is Gwen.

To be completely honest, the first reason is the main reason, probably the only true reason. The second is merely a decoy.

Merlin wanks himself mellow every morning before going to Arthur’s chambers, then again every night before sleep when he has the opportunity. Which he has not had lately, so it’s no surprise really that he’s getting harder than a unicorn’s horn because Arthur smiles at him ever so briefly as they pass in the corridor. That blasted ‘oops, someone caught me touching Guinevere in public’ expression is as painful as it is gorgeous – and familiar. He smiles at Merlin like that whenever some nobleman witnesses one of their friendly, jovial moments: ‘oops, we’ve been caught fraternising – again.’ The whispers about them no longer stop Arthur treating Merlin the same way day to day. Gwen says it’s cute, with her dimples ablaze with amusement and eyes aglow from the naughty thoughts burning behind them. 

How is Merlin supposed to stop these thoughts of having earth-shattering sex with Arthur when even Gwen is thinking of them doing it!

Book after book provides no answers. Then finally a solution! Reflective surfaces can be used to store truths that one prefers remain hidden. Why didn’t he think of it before? He used a simpler revealing spell based on an opposing principle to verify the theory that Catrina was a troll. Now he needs to find a mirror that no-one would miss.

Queen Morgana had commissioned a large oval, gilt-framed looking glass to celebrate her reign. Her reign was complete before the mirror so now it languishes in the vault. Merlin steals Arthur’s key as he has done before only this time without ogling Arthur’s half-naked and clearly aroused form. At least, not once his hand touches the small drawer in Arthur’s armoire. Before that, Merlin considers chucking in this whole ‘suppress his desires’ idea, crawling under Arthur’s covers and giving him a blowjob to add a touch of reality to his nocturnal fantasy. Then fucking him until he brays – oh for mercy’s sake stop that!

Key in hand, Merlin strolls confidently through the darkened castle until he reaches the entrance to the warren of tunnels leading to the vault, then he creeps stealthily, liberates the mirror, tells the guard who catches him with it under his arm that Prince Arthur has decided this shall be a secret betrothal gift and anyone revealing this secret before the gift is presented will be trialled for treason. ‘Who’s the idiot now?’ Merlin asks himself then realises it’s him. If yet another random search of his room uncovers the presence of this mirror after that little fib, the whispers about him and Arthur will become one of those bawdy songs traditionally sung at taverns for generations to come.

Idiot!

Merlin continues on to his room regardless. He performs the spell, touches the reflective surface with all five fingertips of one hand and pours his desires into it. He feels that boiling combination of love and lust mixing with the quicksilver before the enchantment is finished. He sees his paler body between Arthur’s legs and draped across his back, arms crossing Arthur’s torso so he can pull himself deeper and fill him with cum. The incantation finishes on their names, _Arthur and Merlin_ , as the images climax simultaneously with their mouths open, as if they say the other’s name, and his eyes return to blue.

Now, where to keep it?

* * *

Arthur suspects Merlin has something to do with this simply because he insists he does not.

“Mirror, what mirror? Oh. That’s always been here hasn’t it? Pretty sure I’ve cleaned it hundreds of times before.”

“You can’t have Merlin, because unlike the things you **do** clean this actually **is** clean. Look at it, completely untarnished!” Arthur insists in return, grasping Merlin’s shoulder and trying to force him to examine the thing properly. Arthur hasn’t bothered dressing. Waking up to see his sleep rumpled self, staring back from a large mirror that was not in his room when he went to bed startled him. It may have made him holler at Merlin just a little bit while wearing nothing but a sheet as well.

“No, it isn’t. That last blow to the head must have addled your wits.”

“I’ll addle **your** wits. Well I would if you weren’t already so completely scatterbrained!” His own thoughts scatter. _What was that?_ Arthur is certain he saw a flicker of movement in the reflected image of their faces that did not actually happen. He scouts the room with his eyes. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Why is it every time I ask that particular question you respond with that one?” _Why are you so determined **not** to look at the ruddy thing? Why for a moment did our reflections appear to be _ kissing _? I truly need to stop thinking about wanting to do that. But first I need to stop_ wanting _to do that._ “Forget I mentioned it. You must be right. Go find something else to do, something that doesn’t involve bothering me.” _Something that doesn’t make me stupidly giddy at the sight of you like I’m some ruddy girl!_

Merlin glances at the contentious object with a slight air of panic as Arthur takes it from the wall and then looks about for somewhere else to put it. “I’ll take that away if you want.”

“No. Here will do.” Making a bigger fuss over it will only ensure Merlin brings it up in a future argument. Honestly, he must store pieces of nonsense like this specifically to irritate Arthur with at a later date. Worse than a woman! Says he whose heart rate quickens when Merlin bends over in front of him / touches him while helping him dress / stands close / gawps like an idiot with those tempting lips open wide enough for Arthur to slip his cock between them – for heaven’s sake stop it!

Arthur’s eyes widen. What in the name of all that is sexually frustrating happened then? The reflection of Merlin’s figure as he left the room was replaced ever so briefly with an image of … no. He’s thinking of enjoying inappropriate activities with Merlin too often, and his recent proximity combined with Arthur’s somnolent musings and morning erection is manifesting itself – his mind’s playing tricks because Merlin makes him horny when he ruddy well shouldn’t! That’s all it is.

Mercy he’s hard …and alone …and wearing a sheet. And Merlin’s evasive glances heat Arthur’s blood, the angle of his eyes and cheekbones as he tilts his head like that…

Arthur’s eyes almost close. One hand makes its teasing way beneath the sheet and starts the pleasant process by cupping his balls, then tugging, pressing and rolling them using his fingers and palm. He can easily imagine Merlin standing behind him at an angle and reaching around to do it instead. His mind’s playing tricks again because he seems to see Merlin in the mirror, doing just that. He opens his eyes properly, hand paused mid-play. He’s still alone. But the sheet is no longer wrapped around his waist. Now it drapes over one shoulder and down his back to the floor like it did in the distorted mirror image. He’s too aroused to care. His thick, blood darkened hard on is fully exposed as it stands proudly erect. It’s reflected perfectly in the mirror, as is the movement of his hand as it tickles temptingly from his balls and up his shaft to the tip and down to the base of his cock. He watches the reflection make the voyage again then again, and again. Mm that feels delightfully good. His fingers travel faster, giving the illusion that fair, slender fingers are busily trying to make him come. When he looks at the reality he sees his hand stroking and squeezing. When he looks in the mirror he sees Merlin’s hand at work so that’s where his gaze stays.

He begins to huff and pant as his climax builds. His head tilts to the side and back, eyes starting to close again. Through his lashes he sees Merlin’s face by his shoulder. Merlin’s eyes move from Arthur’s cock to Arthur’s face, his lips press against the lowest curve of Arthur’s neck in an open mouthed kiss and both real and imagined Arthur come. Real Arthur’s cum hits the glass. He opens his eyes to see it but his gaze is quickly brought up. Imagined Arthur turns his face to catch Imagined Merlin’s kiss. They continue kissing as Imagined Arthur’s hand rests over Imagined Merlin’s cum-covered one and Imagined Merlin’s other hand crosses Arthur’s torso to hold his shoulder, embracing him. Imagined Arthur raises his other arm to cover Imagined Merlin’s to return his embrace in the only manner possible without changing position. Real Arthur cannot hear what Imagined Merlin says to Imagined Arthur but the message is clear in the expression on his face, in the shapes made by his mouth: _I love you_. Imagined Arthur kisses Imagined Merlin again and replies: _I love you too_.

In the world of solid reality, Arthur’s heart breaks.

Merlin would never say that.

Not to Arthur.

* * *

The mirror is back where Arthur found it when Merlin returns to do his original half-arse tidy up. Arthur is having another ‘back to royal asinine prat’ day. Merlin thought he was over that rubbish and figures two can play at this game.

He grumbles angrily to himself about lazy, messy princes leaving sprog-stained sheets on the floor and having the nerve to complain about their dog’s body servants not keeping things clean enough when Arthur has quite clearly smudged something over the mirror’s glass! Quite a few ‘something’s by the look of it, with each substance applied to either dislodge the previous one, or to obscure the mirror’s reflective properties. Perhaps it is both. Merlin’s irritation becomes concern as he considers Arthur’s motives.

He cleans the surface first with a cloth and then with a spell. What he sees when the glass is clear surprises him. Rather than one of the many rampant sex scenes he filled the object with overnight he sees him sitting with Arthur at the table beside him, holding Arthur’s hand and simply talking. Arthur smiles, all remaining traces of prat dissolved. He leans across to kiss Merlin…

Merlin’s lips are pressed against the mirror, he can almost feel the cold, flat image of Arthur becoming warm and pliant as he kisses the daydream.

“What on earth are you doing?!”

“Checking to see if I’m dead,” Merlin responds rapidly to Arthur’s angry query. He points to the mist of his breath evaporating from the glass. “See, that means I’m still alive.”

“Not for long. Get—out!” Arthur points to the door.

Merlin knows better than to argue when Arthur’s like this. He closes the door on his way out then bends to spy through the keyhole. Arthur is pacing.

He watches Arthur pace aimlessly before coming to a sudden stop in front of the mirror.

“What?” he asks it in desperation. “Where did you come from? Why are you showing me what will never be? How do you know what I’m thinking? Is it sorcery or acute observation? Confront me openly instead of driving me insane! If you want the throne, take it! Come on Morgana, you never used to be such a pathetic coward!” Whatever Arthur sees replaces his sudden anger with sorrow. “Stop this. I know this can never be. You can’t fool me into believing this is true.” His hand touches the mirage and Merlin feels the ghost of each contact on his cheek and lips as though Arthur touches him. “He will never love me.”

Merlin dashes silently down the corridor as Arthur steps away from his torment and toward the door. Arthur should not see anything other than what he would see in any mirror. What did he see? What will others see? He has to find that book and discover what went wrong. Arthur’s words whisper through Merlin’s mind the way leaves seem to whisper to each other. _He will never love me_.

Does he refer to his father, or Merlin, or someone else?

Merlin wants Arthur to mean him. _I do love you Arthur. I do._

* * *

That evening Arthur spends hours in front of the mirror.

He observes the players wearing his face and Merlin’s act out their scenes in silence. The things he sees may cause him pain, but they also give him hope. He cannot be with Merlin in reality. What he wishes could be is brought to life. He doesn’t sleep. This is better than any dream because he need not fear waking up.

Morning comes and still he watches. So many ways Merlin can show and tell Arthur he loves him, some of them quite erotic. Good thing Merlin brought in a decent supply of clean socks yesterday. He’s already gone through one and a half pairs.

The door is locked and Merlin is forced to knock.

“Go away.”

“I’ve brought you breakfast!”

“I don’t need you or breakfast.” Arthur has no desire for food. He has no need for this Merlin who consistently finds fault in everything Arthur does. _Why can’t you be him? Why can’t I be that version of me?_

Perhaps if he watches long enough and learns, he will be.

* * *

Merlin cannot see into Arthur’s room. The keyhole is blocked by the key and something else. His windows are too high for anyone to see in to. Merlin dismisses the idea of summoning Kilgarrah and commanding him to peek through Arthur’s window.

After being told he and his food are unnecessary for the third consecutive morning, Merlin talks to Gaius. Gaius tries to talk to Arthur through the door. Arthur is ruder than his original royal asinine, pratful self. Gaius and Merlin exchange expressions of suspicion.

“Gaius, no-one has seen him leave that room for two full days. I have to get in there and find out what’s going on.”

“Is this somehow your fault Merlin?”

“Maybe somehow, I don’t know. He refuses to say more to me than ‘go away’ or ‘I don’t need you’.”

“What have you done this time?”

Merlin is not telling Gaius about the magic mirror and the secrets it contains, just as nothing tells Merlin what may have gone wrong or how to fix it. He sees no other choice but to summon the dragon.

Kilgarrah laughs a lot louder and for a lot longer than Merlin expected. Apparently Merlin’s lustful love for Arthur is more comical than Uther honeymooning with a troll.

“This isn’t the kind of destiny I meant young warlock.”

“I can still kill you, you know.”

“And then your golden-haired prince will remain locked in his tower room until his true love’s first kiss – no, he has already used that solution. All these things only work once, have you noticed?” Kilgarrah laughs again.

“I hate you.”

“Yet here you are, requesting my help again, placing another sequence of secrets between you and your beautiful golden-haired prince…”

“Will you stop that?”

“Not yet young warlock. I have had very little to laugh about these many years.”

Merlin turns and starts walking home.

“Very well, I will tell you how to break the mirror of desire’s hold over Arthur, but you should know that the object cannot be destroyed by either of you. You have created an artefact comparable in power to those most sacred to the Ancients. Already it reaches through time searching for a purpose to justify its existence. Once you free Arthur from the power of your trapped desires you must bring it to me and I will hide it.”

“I don’t trust you. Our souls are kin. I am **not** having you rifling through my lustful thoughts.”

Kilgarrah laughs again. “Do you really think the coupling of pathetic human bodies interests me? I can travel further than you Merlin. My claws are sharp and my power strong. I can bury your desires at the very centre of the earth without causing a single eruption or being caught in the mirror’s spell. Can you?”

“Alright then, now how do I free Arthur?”

“You must fuck him,” Kilgarrah states simply.

“I, what, I beg your pardon?” Merlin stammers, incredulous.

“Fuck—him!”

“I can’t do that!”

“You clearly want to. Your desires have Arthur in thrall Merlin. This may be the only time you have no trouble following my advice.”

Kilgarrah launches his hefty bulk from the ground and flies away.

* * *

Arthur performs a quick sock count.

Plenty left. He feels a bit dizzy and incredibly thirsty. In the oval mirror, Imagined Arthur drinks an entire flagon of fresh, clean water and takes a nap. This vision Arthur can bring to life, except he doesn’t have a flagon of water. His wash basin contains more cum than water. His chamber pot is empty because he hasn’t peed in …how long has he sat in front of this stupid thing?

He unlocks his door and ventures forth in the quest for water. Crud, Merlin! It’s only now that Arthur realises he is still wearing the same shirt from the last time he saw Merlin, Real Merlin. When was that? This realisation is closely followed by another. The unlaundered shirt is all Arthur is wearing. He hasn’t cleaned his teeth, taken a bath, or anything for an unknown period of time. The loss of time is frightening. Merlin seeing him like this is mortifying. Arthur’s brain is as starved and fatigued as his body. Every thought misfires. He turns and runs from Merlin. He can’t face this, not now, perhaps never again.

* * *

Who the hell is that? And why is he wearing Arthur’s shirt?

That birthmark a hand-span below his bare bum as he bolts up the stairs is a bit of a giveaway.

“Arthur!” Merlin chases after him.

* * *

This isn’t his room! Is it?

Hungry, thirsty, exhausted and confused, Arthur crumples into a heap on the floor and sleeps.

* * *

A blacksmith in a mauve dress pounds Arthur’s head with a wooden mallet, using the top of his skull as an anvil. His lips feel cracked and the dribble of water over them stings. His parched tongue licks out, greedily trying to catch the moisture.

“Arthur,” a voice whispers with restrained excitement.

“Merlin?” his voice is as cracked as his lips.

“I’ll get him for you,” Guinevere kisses Arthur’s forehead and runs from his side in a blur of mauve skirts. “Merlin!” she calls urgently as she runs and Arthur can smell her tears. The faintly salted scent makes his throat burn for water. “Merlin! He’s awake!”

Not for long.

* * *

Merlin has removed the disastrous object from Arthur’s wall but can’t stop staring at what it shows. A dream version of Arthur walks in to a perfect version of this room, a dream version of Merlin joyfully runs up to him throws his arms around him. Instead of rejection, he receives a hug in return. Then Arthur kisses him…

Merlin can feel the pressure against his lips.

This is not a fantasy that Merlin hid in the quicksilver. This is what he wants to happen now.

The scene replays.

“Show me more. Show me my desire that lurks deepest, unknown even to me.” Merlin is not aware that he speaks in a language preceding the Old Religion. The artefact he created reaches backward in time to educate its creator. _See what I am, I bring you the truth that dwells in the silence between heart beats, I reveal unto you that which you yearn for above all else, this I do for any who look into me, beware, avert your eye lest you be overcome by fear of losing that which you may never achieve, only a contented soul shall see as things are other than how they would have them be. Dare you look eternal one?_

“Merlin!” Gwen calls with bright urgency as she runs along the corridor. “Merlin, he’s awake!”

Merlin looks into the mirror and sees his own relieved reflection. He smiles, his reflection smiles. He pokes out his tongue and his reflection copies it like an ordinary mirror.

He can feel the power coursing through the object. The enchantment is unbroken. Merlin can easily fall victim to its spell at a later date.

_Hide me with Kilgarrah. Generations from now, you and your desire shall take different forms and together put me to use against a great evil. This form is the only one in which you come together as equals. In the next he will be your mentor as you have been his. You will not remember eternal one. He will be able to look into me and resist, but only if you love him while you can._

Merlin warns Gwen to keep away from the mirror because it carries a curse then he runs to Arthur’s side.

* * *

“Arthur?” Merlin asks softly.

Arthur feels the press of unfamiliar lips to his cheek bone and brow. Whoever is kissing him it certainly isn’t Guinevere!

“Get off!” he pushes the stranger away only to discover it is Merlin. This is why Merlin of the real world cannot love Arthur as Imagined Merlin does. Arthur occasionally tends to act before thinking.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, this is my fault. I thought hiding my love for you, how much I wanted you would make life easier for both of us, not come close to killing you. I should never have put that mirror in your room. I should never have poured all the things I could never tell you into it.”

“Shut up Merlin. My head hurts.” Arthur closes his eyes again. Another week of sleep should fix it.

“I love you,” Merlin murmurs and stands to leave.

“So I’m dying? Or am I merely delirious?” Arthur doesn’t bother opening his eyes to ask either question. “Merlin would never say that. Not to me,” he grumbles gruffly. He feels Merlin sit down beside him and touch his hand. Merlin’s finger is unsteady as it strokes Arthur’s palm. Arthur closes his hand around it but refuses to open his eyes.

“You’re not dying. You are slightly delirious because you’re dehydrated. I did say it, to you, and I’m going to say it again. I love you and I’m sorry for keeping things from you.”

“Things like what?”

Merlin tells him, in detail.

Merlin is lucky Arthur’s in no fit state, because while some of the things make him wish he had the energy to drag Merlin on top of him, others make him wish he could get his hands on his sword.

Merlin starts repeating himself.

“Shut up Merlin.”

“Yes Arthur.” Merlin sounds as broken as Arthur feels.

“When I wake up from what promises to be a rather long nap, I’ll want a big hot breakfast and a big, hot bath. They better be ready for me.”

“Yes Arthur.” That sounds like the Merlin he knows. He can hear Merlin’s grin.

“One more thing Merlin, when you take that magic mirror to the dragon I’m going with you. Argue with me and I’ll send you to the headsman’s axe wearing that official feathered hat you like so much.”

“Prat.”

“Dragonlord.”

…

* * *

Arthur called him Dragonlord!

Merlin doesn’t know how to react to that. He chooses to lie next to him on the bed.

“You don’t half stink!”

“That’s because I completely stink. Is my bath ready?”

“No.”

“Then why are you waking me up?”

Merlin doesn’t sleep. He watches Arthur instead. The evidence of his recent distress fades away as he sleeps. The truth will heal him quicker than any magic.

* * *

“Do you want to know what I saw in the mirror?” Arthur asks languidly as Merlin washes his hair. He has an actual Dragonlord, washing his hair! It’s very much a turn on, unlike waking up on a pillow soggy from Merlin sleep drool. The way Merlin’s arm draped protectively across him while they slept caused an entirely unexpected reaction, erasing all of Arthur’s anger, resentment and fear. That innocent contact cleansed his soul and now he soaks in the bath to clean his body. In direct contrast, the cleaner Arthur gets, the dirtier his thoughts become.

“Not really, no. Your more appropriate thoughts of Gwen are enough to make me sick. I don’t need to hear …”

Arthur tells him the naughtiest bits anyway. Only one involves Guinevere, and then as part of a threesome.

“Out of the tub,” Merlin commands rather shakily. “I can’t take any more.”

“What?”

“No more talking.”

“That’s hardly fair! I listened to all of yours. I may have been catatonic at the time but I heard you. Without the ability to cover my ears, I might add!”

“No talking, doing.”

_Oh!_

* * *

Merlin is curled over between Arthur’s legs, weight resting on his half-closed hands, toes and knees. He no longer moves his head up and down. Instead he leaves his jaw slack and lets the slow rise and fall of Arthur’s hips control how much cock fills Merlin’s mouth as he sucks. His thighs, knees and calves flex and relax around Merlin while his arms and shoulders remain heavy and useless on the floor. Arthur’s well-muscled abdomen comes into contact with Merlin’s nose and fringe on the upward thrust. The top of Arthur’s thighs rub against Merlin’s tits and he moans around Arthur’s cock in response. Arthur’s feet push against Merlin’s heels so he lift his hips higher, ensuring he touches Merlin’s tits and sliding deeper into Merlin’s mouth each time.

Arthur doesn’t say anything. His breathing and physical responses tell Merlin how much he is enjoying their first acts of intimacy without resorting to commentary. His body is so warm and responsive, like Arthur’s facial features in his unguarded moments. Merlin knows he is holding nothing back. The notion is as arousing as it is liberating. Merlin tilts his head so Arthur’s knob paints the roof of his mouth with sticky, salty pre-cum.

Merlin’s cock is so hard it stands upright, sliding against one or the other of Arthur’s thighs. He feels Arthur try to bring his thighs close enough together to squeeze Merlin’s cock between them while continuing to fuck Merlin’s face. When he fails to effectively do both at the same time he drags a lethargic left hand up Merlin’s right forearm, over his shoulder, down the side of his back… Merlin wonders where Arthur’s left hand has gone until he feels knuckles caressing the underside of his cock.

His hips move reflexively in the opposite direction to Arthur’s hand. Arthur’s body moves to the same rhythm as Merlin’s. A series of small grunts followed by a moan makes Merlin’s pulse throb through his cock as he realises what Arthur is doing. Merlin shifts the weight of the top half of his body to his right hand which presses flat on the floor. His left hand follows Arthur’s side to his buttock then between. Arthur bucks up into Merlin’s mouth as the length of Merlin’s finger joins the tip of Arthur’s inside him.

Merlin stops his oral ministrations in order to concentrate on opening Arthur properly. Arthur’s right hand reaches back for the still sudsy block of soap and passes it to Merlin. His left hand curves around Merlin’s pulsing cock and slides up and down with a tantalisingly loose grip. Merlin thrusts into Arthur’s hand by clenching his buttocks and thighs as he uses the gently rounded corner of the slippery soap to make what’s about to happen more pleasant and less painful for them both. 

He is soon able to slip two soapy fingers through Arthur’s soapy rim and moves them at different speeds and angles to make Arthur wiggle and bounce pleasantly. He knows when Arthur is ready by the changing rhythms of his breathing and body movements. Merlin carefully removes his fingers, running that whole hand over Arthur’s right buttock, under his thigh, lifting and adjusting his right leg so it rests against Merlin’s shoulder. His opposite hand introduces the weeping tip of his cock to Arthur’s rim as smoothly as possible as Arthur raises his other leg. He feels warm inside and slightly resistant, virginal.

Merlin turns to his face to one side to kiss Arthur’s leg as he draws his hips back slightly. He knows from experience that the first few outgoing drags can hurt more than the first insertion. He does not want to dominate Arthur, he never has. He wanted their first time together to be an exchange, both giving and accepting, neither taking. This desire hasn’t changed now he knows Arthur is a virgin in this particular sense. He begins with slow, shallow pumps until Arthur’s internal muscles treat his cock as a welcome guest rather than a foreign intrusion. Merlin calmly leans forward, sliding deeper inside Arthur. He is soon able to kiss Arthur’s partially open lips, drinking in his panted exhalations and involuntary grunts of pleasure. He positions his hands flat beneath Arthur’s shoulders, curves his back so he can keep his eyes level with Arthur’s while he pulls out and pushes in. He finds his rhythm and fucks him steadily to achieve mutual orgasm. 

* * *

Every action of Merlin’s is sensitive to Arthur’s inexperience even though Arthur never mentioned it.

Noblemen and women of this realm and others had sought the privilege of claiming Arthur’s virginity for years. Merlin was the only one he trusted not to treat him as a trophy. Merlin ensures his partner receives as much satisfaction from these intimate acts as himself, and Arthur feels his trust in Merlin is fully justified.

He lied about certain things, important things, but his reasons were based on preserving his ability to protect Arthur. His guilt over the horror of the mirror of desires is proof enough of his devotion. What Arthur sees in his eyes as they share sexual pleasure convinces him that this is where he should have looked all along. He nearly wasted away indulging in fantasies and would have missed out on what was truly important if he hadn’t snapped out of it for something as mundane as a drink of water. He would have died for an impossible dream.

Arthur and Merlin come together. Each sensation is heightened as they shudder simultaneously, exchanging cum with kisses followed by whispered declarations of ‘you’re incredible’, ‘you amaze me’, ‘I love you’, and ‘why were we scared of each other?’

Their bodies separate and Arthur suggests Merlin demonstrate how his inherited talents are **not** a threat to Camelot by heating the bath water.

“Eurgh!” he exclaims as he stands. The slow, warm, wet dribble down his thigh is not a pleasant after effect considering how remarkable sex is with Merlin.

“Probably should have warned you about that.”

“Do you think?” This really is most undignified.

“Where did you think it would go?”

“I assumed it would stay put until the next time what’s normally stored there came out. Laugh and I’m never letting you do that again.”

Merlin does not laugh. He kisses Arthur solemnly. Arthur kisses him back. From now on he will appreciate everything he has.

* * *

Merlin magically adds an inscription to the top of the frame at the front: _I show not your face but your heart’s desire_ *.

“Your words of warning should be written as a fractured reflection of themselves so we can recognise the real one in future,” Arthur suggests. Something about the didactic delivery of this remark sends a prophetic signal down Merlin’s spine.

“What are you talking about?”

“Did I say something? I was only wondering what to do should your dragon decide to try roasting me again.”

“We could bring some parsnips?”

“Sometimes I wonder about you Merlin.”

Merlin has been wondering about Arthur since they first met. He changes the wording of the inscription as Arthur eerily suggested before they place it in a small cart padded with torn pillows and blankets.

* * *

Kilgarrah doesn’t try roasting Arthur when they arrive with the Mirror of Erised. He agrees to hide it in his den, but first he increases its dimensions along the X and Y axes. Kilgarrah requires Merlin’s help to do this and assures the young and clearly satisfied warlock that doing so will prevent its theft.

After Merlin and Arthur leave, Kilgarrah laughs at the unusual twists and turns constructed by Destiny in order to achieve her goals. He never would have foreseen the two pairing off in such a manner. The Royal Court at Camelot is about to become much more interesting.

As the sun rises Kilgarrah settles down in front of the enchanted looking glass to discover what thoughts Merlin had felt so determined to conceal from Arthur. He soon learns the Mirror of Erised reveals the heart’s desire of the current viewer only, not previous users. Kilgarrah falls under its spell, only to be freed centuries later by a familiar soul with an unfamiliar face. The image in the Mirror of Erised changes from a youthful dragon flying free with his family, to two friends gaining the courage to admit their deeper love for each other. The name Pendragon echoes through his cavernous memory.

“Surely you have something better to do than squander your life staring into that blasted thing!” declares a young man with auburn hair, pewter-rimmed spectacles, plum velvet robe and a pointed hat. The amused arrogance of this warlock is a living echo of the prince laughing at them from the quicksilver surface of the mirror. They have identical blue eyes. “Forgive my lapse in manners but documentation led me to believe you were deceased. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, graduate of Hogwarts School of Wizardry. I am currently writing a dissertation on the practical uses of dragon blood…”

Kilgarrah yawns and realises someone has built a bank around him whilst he was mesmerised by the mirror’s spell, and that he has lost his voice.

Pendragon/Dumbledore looks into the mirror that almost killed him. “I know your tricks. You cannot tempt me with false dreams of Merlin now. We lived our love.” He nods to Kilgarrah. “It is my turn to protect him. All debts will be repaid and then you may rest.”

Kilgarrah watches him vanish, taking the Mirror of Erised and leaving his memories of Merlin in its place. Arthur’s sacrifice is great, but so is the evil which the coming incarnation of Merlin must face.

This time the dragon does not laugh at their predicament, for now he understands how their love continues to shape the world.  



End file.
